morning, each of them had brought a load. The former had only a neat
little japanned tin box, about as big as his head; and the latter,
besides his oars, carried a seemingly pretty heavy basket.

"Lots of lunch, I should say," had been Ford's mental comment; but he
had not thought it wise to ask questions.

"Plenty of lunch in that box," thought Dab at the same moment, but only
as a matter of course.

And they were both wrong. Lunch was the one thing they had both
forgotten.

But the box and the basket.

Ford Foster came out, of his own accord, with the secret of the box; for
he now took a little key out of his pocket, and unlocked it with an air
of--

"Look at this, will you?"

Dab Kinzer looked, and was very sure he had never before seen quite such
an assortment of brand-new fish-hooks, of many sorts and sizes, and of
fish-lines which looked as if they had thus far spent their lives on dry
land.

"Tip-top," he remarked. "I see a lot of things we can use one of these
days, but there isn't time to go over 'em now. Let's go for the crabs.
What made you bring your box along?"